


All Dirty Again

by dattumblrgal



Series: Little Slices of Worlds [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, this was meant to be a crack fic but it didnt quite turn out that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 01:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15353415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dattumblrgal/pseuds/dattumblrgal
Summary: Harry watches Sour Diesel, gets horny and decides to send Zayn some interesting pictures.





	All Dirty Again

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out a bit differently from what I expected but I'm okay with it lol. Don't take it too seriously.

     We need to establish a few things. Firstly, Harry didn’t _mean_ to watch Zayn’s new music video. He didn’t go looking for it, he certainly wasn’t waiting for its release and he didn’t open it with the intention to enjoy it. He was just curious, alright?

  
       And secondly, Harry absolutely did not grow an arse like that on purpose. It’s quite tiring to see his fans _accuse_ him of doing that. Yes, his arse looks amazing but he wasn’t doing any of those so called “Kim Kardashian booty” workouts nor did he have a Brazilian butt lift as some of them like to suggest.

  
       Those things have no correlation to what he did and why he did it. It was just his sheer stupidity.

  
       Fine, it might’ve had something to do with Zayn’s music video.

  
       See, Harry wasn’t actively looking for Zayn’s new music. He might’ve at some point in his life, but this wasn’t that occasion. This was purely Apple’s fault and no one else’s.

  
        Harry was minding his business, lying in bed in his London house, sleeping off the jet lag and he wanted to just listen to some fucking music, nothing more but no, Apple Music had to be a bloody clown and recommend him his ex’s newest single. And naturally, Harry had to be an even bigger clown and click on it. His brain that was in a half state of sleep thought there’s truly nothing better than watching a sexy music video of a man you may or may not still be in love with at 3AM, when you’ve barely got your eyes open and are vulnerable to nostalgia and feelings that you buried years ago.

  
       He had to admit the song was amazing. The electric guitar and Zayn’s voice working together in unison to bring the listener an exciting rock song that reminds you of the 80’s rock but also 90’s RnB and something modern along with an underlining of Zayn’s own sound. It’s a good fucking song and despite everything, Harry enjoys listening to it.

  
       The video, on the other hand, is a different story.

  
       Harry’s heart misses a beat in the beginning, when Zayn’s putting on the black around his eyes and looks in the small mirror, green contacts and all but that’s just the standard human reaction to looking straight into Zayn Malik’s eyes and Harry has years of experience. So he’s fine, he watches how Zayn’s character takes out the guards and fights the bad guy alongside a masked girl, and really, he’s okay. It’s just Zayn, beautiful, mesmerizing, breathtaking Zayn that Harry hasn’t seen in person in years but it’s managable.

  
       The turning point is the shot of him in bed with those girls, where he starts crawling away, his tattooed back in full view. Hands desperately trying to reach any part of him as he tries to get away. Then the dimmed view of his naked chest, barely visible to a casual viewer but Harry’s imagination is more than capable of filling in the gaps. He’s seen him like that countless of times, touched him and kissed him. There are new tattoos, new muscles that Harry never had the chance to explore with his fingertips, his lips and tongue but it’s still the same skin, same person.

  
       That’s when Harry’s dick starts to get interested. At first, Harry doesn’t pay it any attention. Zayn’s face is hidden beneath a mask again so Harry just tries to focus on the plot of the video. His now half-hard dick reminds him it’s there and wants to be noticed once Zayn’s unmasked and defeated, lying on the ground with remnants of fake blood on his face while the bad guy flaunts his victory. And Harry loses the fight with himself.

  
       He reaches down into his boxers and finally wraps a hand around himself just as the song ends. Maybe he should feel guilty or ashamed, getting off at the thought of a man he used to sleep with and love. But he doesn’t, not in the slightest. It’s a bit too dry as he tugs himself off, trying to catch any wetness at the tip and bring it all the way to the base. It’s still so fucking good as he closes his eyes and moans, Zayn’s voice stuck in his head and the imagine of him replaying constantly.

  
       Harry’s wished many times his own hand could be Zayn’s. Maybe it would finally bring him peace, their last rodeo. Maybe they just need to fuck each other senseless and then they could forget about everything, forget about the nights filled with their moans, their sweaty bodies on top of each other. Maybe that’s the key to finally letting go off each other for good. No hard feelings, no bitterness, no broken hearts.

  
       He grabs his phone and opens the camera app just as he leaves his dick lying on his belly and tentatively touches his hole. His fingers are dry but even the touch on the outside makes him shudder.

  
       Harry knows he’s going to blame this on exhaustion later, he’ll tell himself that he was just tired and horny, that he wasn’t thinking straight. But he’s fed up. He’d fed up with this fucking friendly politeness he and Zayn have. All six time they’ve spoken since Zayn left have been dry, emotionless, as if there was nothing between time. It’s like all the feelings between them disappeared into thin air, the memories dissipated into fucking nothing. He’s _tired_ of this nothingness and if he has to literally provoke Zayn into acknowledging what was between them with inappropriate pictures, so be it.

  
       Taking nudes isn’t a regular thing on Harry’s schedule. With his profession, it’s risky, whether the who he sends them to aspect or the my-iCloud-got-hacked aspect.  If he’s going to do something as reckless as text Zayn out of sudden, he might as well risk it even more and send him very good footage of what exactly he’s missing. Harry has a mildly self-deprecating thought that since Zayn has been enjoying coitus with certain Miss Gigi Hadid for almost three years, he might not be missing that much. Whatever, Harry might not have perfect tits like her, his arse is certainly miles and miles better than hers.

  
       Harry drops trying to get himself off for a few minutes, knowing that after he’s done it’s going to be even better. He starts off easy, taking a pic of his hard dick lying on his belly, begging to be touched. All red, the tip wet, he can’t not touch himself.

  
       After a few seconds of indulgence, he gets on all four, dropping down to his forearms, his arse up in the air. He takes a few pics, maneuvering the camera over his shoulder, hoping at least one of the photos is good. These need to be great. Harry wants to get a reaction out of Zayn and if he didn’t change very much, he knows exactly how to drive him crazy. Zayn used to love his arse, even back then when the skinny jeans he used to wear almost hid it completely. He was obsessed, he couldn’t keep his hands off Harry’s arse even on stage. A pic like this could certainly remind him of the many times he fucked Harry like that, bring back the memories of the hours and hours they spend together in hotel rooms, getting lost in each other’s bodies.

  
       Harry knee-walks almost to the headboard and tries to balance his phone on the duvet to get a full shot of his arse. It’s a precarious position but he manages to take decent pics. Just to be a fucking menace, he takes a few more, this time with his hands just gripping his cheeks at first and then some holding them open so him hole is visible. They’re positively one of the most obscene photos Harry has ever taken.

  
       The funniest thing about it all is that Harry actually has Zayn’s current phone number. Niall’s the only one who talks to him regularly these days and every time Zayn changes it, he sends the new one to Harry with a variation of the message “You two are fucking annoying and you should really talk it out.”, in spite of the fact that they have talked multiple times since Zayn had left. They both know what Niall really means.

  
       And because he’s a fucking idiot, Harry sends Zayn three photos - one of his dick, two of his arse, with the message “ **Saw Sour Diesel. Wicked song, even better video. You looked great. I’m thinking about you. All the love, H.** ” since apparently, he has absolutely no self control or rational thinking when he’s jetlagged and horny. So there’s that.

  
       Harry also says “Fuck it.” to wanking and pulls out lube and a didlo out of his bottom drawer. He hasn’t been fucked in a long time and for this bullshit he just pulled, he deserves a reward to soothe his slightly broken heart.

  
       He gets a finger inside of himself rather quickly. He knows his body, he knows what he can take and now he just wants to feel good, he wants to feel something inside of himself, stretching him and fucking him. It’s not a dick, hot and pulsing, attached to someone’s body, someone who Harry liked enough to bring into his bed and got naked with, but it’s enough for now.

  
       Harry’s phone chimes with a message when he has two lube-slick fingers inside of him. He groans but he ignores the phone. If it was something serious, they would call him. He continues fucking himself on his fingers, scissoring them and lifting his hips off the bed, trying to finally get to his prostate. He gets another finger inside when his phone goes off again and this time, Harry takes his fingers out with a groan and grabs his phone off the duvet with his clean hand. His sped up breathing only accelerates when he sees who texted him.

  
    _”harry you have to be taking the fucking piss right now”_

  
_”are you fucking yourself right now?”_

  
       Harry gasps out a laugh at Zayn’s replies. He fucking knew it. He knew Zayn was still weak for this, _for him._

  
      **“Just had three fingers in me. Still thinking about you x ”**

  
       Harry types out the reply with one hand and he puts his fingers back inside of him, moaning as he gets the third finger in. It’s a bit of a challenge but the photo he takes then is adequate. Everything’s on display. He writes another message to go with, this one audacious and careless.

  
        **“Wish you were here so you could fuck me. Hard like you used to. Miss you so much.”**

  
       After a minute or two, he reaches for the dildo and starts fucking himself properly. His wrist is starting to hurt, the strain too much on it but it feels too fucking good to stop.

  
       Harry slows the tempo down after hearing his phone get a new message. He smirks but it soon falls off his face when he reads what it actually says.

  
_“do you miss me or do you just miss us having sex?”_

  
       A new message appears before Harry can even fully take in the first one.

  
       _“ive thought about you a lot lately. wanted to go see your show but thought better of it. you look so fucking good.”_

  
       Harry nearly stops breathing and he’s sure his heart misses a few beats. Zayn wanted to fucking see him. He literally wanted to go to Harry’s show. This is... fucked up and he’s got a fucking dildo up his arse so this isn’t the time to be giving himself false hope. If Zayn truly wanted to see him, he would. It’s not like Harry’s hiding on an island, completely unreachable. He still can keep this charade going though.

  
       He decides this will be the last photo he sends, one where Zayn can clearly see dildo inside of him. This is the cherry on top.

  
   **“Call me.”**

  
       That’s the message Harry locks his phone with.

  
       He knows Zayn will cave in. He knows Zayn won’t be able to resist phone sex right now, especially after the last photo. It’s been three years, they’ve both missed this. The illicit nature of their relationship always had them hooked, the danger of it. They can’t let go, even years later.

  
       And just like Harry expected, his phone rings not even three minutes after he sent the text.

  
       “Your girlfriend isn’t enough, love? A few pics of my arse, is it all it takes for you to come crawling back to me?” Harry says instead of a normal greeting.

  
        _“You’re so full of shit, Harry,”_ Zayn says around a gasp on the other end of the line.

  
       Harry chuckles and then gasps, the dildo finally on an angle to reach his prostate. “I’m full of _not_ your dick and that’s rather upsetting.”

  
        _“Why did send those pics to me? What are you trying to achieve with this?”_ Zayn asks quietly. Harry can imagine what he looks like right now, probably naked on his bed, hand wrapped around his cock. They’re half a world apart but in their minds, they are the closest humans can be to each other. Harry wants to kiss him, feel his lips on his own. It’s been way too long since the last time they touched.

  
       “You looked so sexy in that video,” Harry gasps. “And that scene with those girls, god. I miss you so fucking much and it got me horny. I couldn’t help myself. So I took some photos. I still know what drives you crazy.”

  
       _“God, Harry. Your arse looks so good. My dick got hard almost right away, it’s crazy. I wish you had your face in those pics too. I miss you.”_

  
       “Are you lying to me?”

  
    _“About what?”_

  
       “Missing me,” Harry grunts.

  
        Zayn makes a noise of surprise that’s swallowed by a moan. _“No, why would I? I do miss you. I’ve been missing you for years.”_

  
       “Then why haven’t we talked sooner? You could’ve called me. We could’ve met up years ago.”

  
      _“I wasn’t the one to change my fucking number, Harry.”_

  
       “Fine,” Harry breathes out, quickly putting his phone on the bed and turning on the speaker. “I fucked up. Can we fix it, please? You ruined me. I can’t be with anyone else now. I keep comparing everyone to you. Their looks, their personality, how they fuck. You’re always on my mind.”

  
       _“Stop talking shit. You think it’s that simple? I’m with Gigi. And we’re no good together. We always fuck it up.”_

  
       Harry scoffs and grips his dick harder in his hand. “Weren’t you two broken up like two weeks ago? And we’re different people, Zayn. It’s been more than three years. We’re not fucked up anymore.”

  
        _“D’you want me to leave her for you?”_ Zayn asks, no laugh or chuckle in sight. With all the moans and gasping, Harry’s not sure about how serious Zayn actually is.

  
       “Would be nice. But you were fucking me for years and you still wouldn’t leave Perrie. Perhaps you’ve finally changed. Maybe you can finally admit you like fucking me more than you like pussy.”

  
       _“Harry...”_ Zayn grunts, maybe out of annoyance, maybe just because he wants this just as much as Harry does.

  
       “Are you close?” Harry asks. He can feel his own orgasm building up, he doesn’t need a lot more. If Zayn was actually here’ he would’ve come already.

  
        _“Yeah, I’m close,”_ Zayn moans.

  
       “Keep talking, I’m close too.”

  
_“What do you want me to say?”_

  
        “What would you do if you were here?”

  
_“I’d be fucking you so hard right now, you have no idea. I’d hold you close and wouldn’t let you touch your cock. You’d be begging to come.”_

  
       “Go on.”

  
     _“I’d kiss you. I’d kiss your mouth, your cheekbones, your neck. Your hair is probably sweaty now, all up in your eyes. I’d get it out for you, babe. You know I always want to see you, see your eyes. Maybe I’d eat you out too. I know you love that.”_

  
       “I love _you_.”

  
     _“Harry, don’t.”_

  
       “‘M comin’.” Harry gasps out as he comes, white streaks coating his belly and chest. He can hear Zayn come too over the phone, this quiet gasp he still makes. Harry thinks he hears him whisper his name again but his heart is being so fucking loud he’s not sure. He hasn’t come like this in so fucking long.

  
       There’s silence between them for some time but neither of them ends the call. Harry can sense his mind getting less cloudy, the reality of what he just did settling in his head.

  
        _“Did you mean it, Harry?”_ Zayn asks after a few minutes.

  
       “Always,” Harry says without hesitation. Like a fool. Like the fool he still is for what they have together.

  
      _“We can maybe...”_ Zayn says after another moment of silence. “ _Maybe we can meet up.”_

  
       “Okay.”

  
_“Okay.”_

  
       “Text me? If you forget I’ll call you.”

  
_“Yeah. Sure.”_

  
       “Are you lying?”

  
_“No, I’m not lying.”_

  
       “Goodnight, Zayn.”

  
_“Goodnight, Harry.”_

  
       Neither of them disconnects the call.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it! Please leave kudos and a comment! You can find me on Tumblr @pinkzayn, I'm always happy to talk about the fics if you have any questions or comments!


End file.
